With This Letter, I Dissolve
by Lexalot
Summary: Forgivable is not in the Luthor Lexicon. (Warning: Slash relationship--Clex)


With This Letter, I Dissolve  
  
By: Lexalot  
  
Summary: Forgivable is not in the Luthor Lexicon.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: Can't own, don't try.  
  
***  
  
To My Former Everything:  
  
There are so many things I want back. I have decided that it would be best to make my demands now, while the wound inflicted by the end of our relationship is still fresh. My wishes will be met with no exceptions! No concessions will be made and I will not be denied what I am owed.  
  
First, I want you to restore any shred of innocence I had left in me, since you took it for yours to wear with your own natural purity, and don it like the badge of incorruptibility. Any thoughts I ever had or words I ever spoke that were carefree and not weighted with my usual jaded outlook on life; these things are mine and I lay rightful claim to them. You cannot maintain confidence, because I am taking that as well, as I am the one you drew it from in the first place. Each instance of happiness you experienced at my expense, emotionally, physically, financially, or otherwise, is a debt I intend to collect in full. Likewise, I will extract the toll of any comfort I ever offered and seek restitution for all the comfort you never offered me. When I was the one who needed a shoulder, perhaps because you did not realize I needed one, but nonetheless, you gave me neither, so I will have both now.  
  
I never had vengeance on my father because you dissuaded me from such wrathful action, forging my soul in your image. I always passed up opportunities to expand LexCorp and thus my own company suffered mediocrity so you could possess my life and my time, both of a precious quality I would not expect you to understand. These two wrongs I shall right, and you will be the means through which I accomplish this end.  
  
Once you regain your bearings and continue on the path you walk, I will steal the road out from under you, and so you do no escape the handicap, I will steal the horizon with the earth, and you will be left with nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide, nowhere to be. I held your hand when we set out in the direction you wanted to go, so I retract my guidance, and out of spite, I want the hand I held as a grim memento, as my hand that united with it will surely die of separation. Since your journey began with me in the lead, I will derail your course now that you have strayed from my side. The track is mine and you will not travel it. You will not breathe its air, and you will not hover in the space above. In fact, I shall ruin all the scenery you so admired, wreak havoc upon its tranquility, and lay waste to its beauty, if for no other reason, to ensure that you are doubly stabbed, both by my scornful loathing and my destructive power.  
  
As a token of my gratitude for liberating me of your cumbersome presence and influence, I will let you keep the disclosure of your secret, and I even give the trust of it back to you, because I have no want of it. I shall not utilize a scrap of it for public exploitation, but that is not to say I can part with the knowledge, as I am not going to, nor do I ever intend to do so. I wave the fee of this sustained loyalty in favor of harnessing these clandestine idiosyncrasies for my own private use, through which I might acquire the justice I vow to seek so obsessively until that is within my reach as well.  
  
With this letter, I rescind my pathetic compassion, and I deprive you of any luxury I ever granted you in my blissful ignorance that faded in so much withering illusionment. With this letter, I absolve myself of all sin and relieve my psyche of all punishment and my conscience of all accountability. With this letter, I relinquish all that we were and destroy it. With this letter, I divorce you and your ideals and your optimism and your sunshine. With this letter, I dispense with my dreams, my hope, my faith, my humility, and my sentimentality. With this letter, I denounce my weakness. With this letter, I dissolve.  
  
And now that I have absconded with all that has been me, I reinstate Lionel Luthor's son in the stead of the man you have made. The man he sought to create would not have fallen victim to your blinding affections and would not have been infected by the vulnerability you pedal like it is some damned contagion. In essence, I want my life put into order the way it was before, replacing this unstable shell of my former self, and I declare that this too will be redeemed in striking you down as I consider that ample compensation.  
  
Finally and most importantly, I want my love back. Every second, every ounce, every cent and every breath of it that I squandered so foolishly is to be repaid with interest. I demand you return each act and display of intimacy and the satisfaction that we shared in its substantial totality. I will require all your memories of such things, because I detest the notion that you would recall these times fondly and I am disgusted when I imagine you drawing pleasure from me then and from echoes of the same in the future. The one thing I ask that you not do above all else is try to give me back my heart. You broke it and you can keep it, as I am certain it will never function properly again. This injury you are responsible for has left it useless, since it is no longer capable of holding such volatile and potent emotion. I have turned cold and I have no lingering desire to know warmth.  
  
You were everything to me, and I will reduce you in such efforts until you are nothing.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Your Former One and Only  
  
***  
  
Lex stared at the letter in his hand. He was not reviewing it, or even reading it. He was just gazing at the paper blankly, knowing exactly all that it said without having to peruse its content. He stayed at his desk, the paper gripped in his fingers for several minutes, and then he set it down carefully on the empty space of the desktop before him. He reclined in his chair, never removing his eyes from the page with the lavender tint and the black ink drying its words that were furiously scrawled by his own hand in an impulsive gesture conceived in a pivotal moment.  
  
That moment had been like any other in actuality, but in Lex's mind, the earth had spun around more than once in that tiny space of time, and his entire world had changed. The revolution turned day to night, blue to black, love to hate, right to wrong, and wrong to right. It was enough to inspire him obviously, as his impromptu declaration of embittered independence loomed on the horizon of this bleak fruition.  
  
After several minutes of mourning and seething, after what seemed like years of wistful and spiteful reverie, he rose, gathered the letter up, and folded it into thirds. He enclosed it in an envelope, which he proceeded to slip into a folder that bore Clark's name on the outer tab. He approached the vault in his office wall with heavy steps, and slid the file inside. He paused, nearly reluctant. Then, he closed the door to the safe with the painting that hid its presence covering it until the lock caught, and it was that simple. It was easy, over and done. His grievances were listed and stored away, concealed behind the facade and protected there.  
  
All was dissolved, desolate, disintegrated... unforgiving. 


End file.
